


to you, i'll always belong

by onekisstotakewithme



Category: MASH (TV)
Genre: 1990s, Alternate Universe - College/University, Bisexual B. J. Hunnicutt, Bisexual Benjamin Franklin "Hawkeye" Pierce, Bisexual Peg (Hayden) Hunnicutt, F/M, Idiots in Love, M/M, OT3, Polyamory, Polyamory Negotiations, Pre-OT3
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-10
Updated: 2020-04-10
Packaged: 2021-02-23 03:10:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23571466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onekisstotakewithme/pseuds/onekisstotakewithme
Summary: What words would ever fit this strange situation she’s suddenly thrust the three of them into?
Relationships: B. J. Hunnicutt/Benjamin Franklin "Hawkeye" Pierce, B. J. Hunnicutt/Peg Hunnicutt, B. J. Hunnicutt/Peg Hunnicutt/Benjamin Franklin "Hawkeye" Pierce, Peg Hunnicutt/Benjamin Franklin "Hawkeye" Pierce
Comments: 13
Kudos: 58





	to you, i'll always belong

**Author's Note:**

  * For [daylight_angel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/daylight_angel/gifts), [flootzavut](https://archiveofourown.org/users/flootzavut/gifts).



> thanks to Day for the beta ♥

“Hey.” Hawkeye nudges Peg’s foot under the library table. “Hey. Peg.”

She ignores him, her nose about an inch from the page, trying in vain to focus on the _Odyssey_ , translating archaic phrases as she goes despite the dull throbbing at the base of her skull.

“Peg.” He nudges harder. “Peggy!”

_“What?”_

He grins at her, resting his elbows on his chemistry notes. “Do you wear those shoes to church?”

“I don’t… go to church.”

“Well you should.” His grin grows wider. “‘Cause they’re holey.”

She rolls her eyes, trying to bury a smile in her notes as she looks back down, picking up her highlighter. “Shouldn’t you be studying, or harassing coeds, or something?”

“But _Peg,”_ he whines, resting his head in his hands. “They all turned me down already.”

“At least _they_ have some sense,” she mutters. “Do you mind?”

“What are you reading?”

“The _Odyssey.”_

“I’d help with that, but it’s all Greek to me.”

“Do you really have no one else to bother? I hear there’s still a few fraternities that haven’t blacklisted you.”

“Why?” he asks, fluttering his eyelashes. “Am I distracting you?”

She’s opening her mouth to reply when her eyes are covered by a pair of icy hands. “Fuck!”

“Guess who,” comes the voice from behind, and she’d roll her eyes if they weren’t covered.

“Abraham Lincoln.”

“Guess again.”

“Bigfoot.”

“I think she’s got you there,” Hawkeye says, as BJ lets go of her, dropping into the chair beside hers before leaning in to kiss her on the cheek. Hawkeye looks between them, eyebrows raised at their matching pink faces. “No kiss for me, Beej?”

“You wouldn’t like where I put it,” BJ says, tossing an arm across the back of Peg’s chair. “How goes the essay, Odysseus?”

“Let’s just say Nobody is enjoying it, and leave it at that,” she quips as she nudges him, making him grin. 

“Can I talk you into making a little odyssey with me to Rosie’s tonight?”

“No,” she says primly.

Hawkeye grins, looking between them. 

“Why not?”

“Because,” she says, looking up from her notes again to raise an eyebrow at him. _“You,_ mister, have a chemistry exam tomorrow morning. And I have an essay that won’t write itself.”

“He can hold your pencil for you,” Hawkeye suggests with a wink.

“That, and if we go out, I’ll have to dress up,” she says. “And you could _braid_ the hair on my legs, BJ. I look like Bigfoot from the waist down.”

“Smallfoot maybe,” Hawkeye says. “Since last I checked Bigfoot was supposed to be, y’know, big?”

“Fuck _you,_ Hawkeye.”

“Only if I’m really lucky,” he says, batting his eyelashes.

“I don’t think you have to shave,” BJ says, his cheeks turning a brilliant shade of pink to match his shirt. “I- I like how you are already.”

She can’t help but grin. “Oh, you take one gender studies class and you’re a new man. I love it.”

The flush in his cheeks deepens. “O-Oh.”

“I took that class too,” Hawkeye mutters.

“So,” BJ says, before either of them can continue. “We won’t go out. We’ll eat in. I won’t even make you shave.”

“I will,” Hawkeye counters lazily. “I’m checking your legs at the door.”

“Not my arms, sheriff?” Peg asks, making Hawkeye cackle. “What about _your_ legs?”

Hawkeye lifts his leg up so his foot is resting on the table, tugging the leg of his pants up to reveal hairless skin. “Smooth as a baby’s butt.”

“See, I always wondered why he took so long in the shower,” BJ mutters _sotto voce_ to Peg. “I always thought it was because he was jerking off.”

“Beej!” Hawkeye tosses a wadded-up chemistry note at him as Peg laughs, grateful that she doesn’t blush (though the idea of Hawkeye doing _that_ is… not entirely an image she hates).

“Look can you two go play Dumb and Dumber somewhere else?” she asks, trying to be annoyed. “If I don’t have an outline for Jordan tomorrow, he’s going to tell Professor Nickel.”

“Oh,” Hawkeye swoons onto the table. “And he’ll have you drawn and quartered! Or worse… they’ll all know the truth: Margaret Jehosephat Hayden-”

“It’s Jane,” she cuts in.

He continues as if he hasn’t heard her. “Margaret Jehovah Hayden… is _human!”_

“No,” she says with a fond flick of his nose. “It just means I won’t get to TA for his class next year.”

“Baby, remind me again why it’s so important for you to be a TA next year?” BJ asks, as he unwads Hawkeye’s note and passes it back to him. “I mean, don’t you have enough on your plate?”

“While it’s sweet that you’re worried,” she starts dryly, only for Hawkeye to cut in.

“It’s so she can get into Nickel’s archaeology class in senior year.” They both look at him in surprise, and he shrugs. “What?”

“Sorry Peg,” BJ says, a little sheepish. “I knew that, I guess I’m just a little preoccupied.”

“With- Oh! Your history exam. How’d it go?”

“Fine.”

“Fine as good, or fine as in you need to snuggle?”

“Oh save the sap for March,” Hawkeye groans. 

“Fine as in good,” BJ reassures her. “Except for the one question I’m _sure_ I got wrong about Korea.”

“I’m sure you got it right.”

“But if I didn’t-”

“Then your GPA will be what, 3.999?”

Hawkeye rolls his eyes. “And you two are a textbook example of why perfectionists should never date.”

“It’s _also_ a textbook example of why we should never date _you,”_ Peg points out, surprised to see a flicker of hurt across Hawkeye’s face. “Seeing as you’re just as bad, if not worse. Who moped for three days the last time he got a B?”

“I didn’t mope.”

“You _sulked_ then,” she says, grinning. “Bs aren’t bad… honey.”

“No, but BJs are better.”

“Not exactly,” she says, ignoring the wink he sends her way. “But one is the best.”

BJ is bright pink again. “Dinner at our place?”

“Sure,” she says, leaning into him, her headache a little better. “Pizza.”

“Uh huh. Half green peppers, half sausage and mushrooms.”

“Oh God,” Hawkeye says, looking between them. “You’re going to make me chaperone.”

“Not fucking likely,” Peg snorts. “You and BJ are going to study while I write the outline for my essay.”

“That doesn’t sound very fun,” Hawkeye mutters.

“Relax,” BJ tells him. “I give it twenty minutes before we’re all sitting on my bed watching _Mad About You.”_

Hawkeye gives them both a joking leer, waggling his eyebrows. “I can think of better things to do that involve your bed, Beej.”

“Pervert,” BJ says with a good-natured roll of his eyes.

“I’ll be there at six,” Peg says. “And I expect you both to get something done while I’m there, alright?”

“Or what, you’ll spank us?” Hawkeye asks innocently.

“No,” she says. “I’ll tie you to your desk chair and make you watch _Seinfeld_ while I go to Rosie’s.”

“You’re terrifying,” he tells her appreciatively.

“I know,” she says, giving him a wink, wincing when the action makes her head throb.

“Head hurt?” BJ asks, looking her over worriedly.

“No… maybe. How’d you know?”

“You’ve got a little crease… here.” BJ presses his thumb very gently against her forehead. “And you’re squinting. You only squint when you’ve got a headache.”

“What an intelligent diagnosis, Dr. Hunnicutt,” she teases gently. “But do you have a cure?”

“Sure. Turn around.”

Peg does without a hint of self-consciousness, and BJ starts to massage the back of her neck, large hands kneading the tense muscles, a tiny fragment of a moan slipping out. _“Fuck.”_

“Hey kids, keep it PG over there,” Hawkeye says, making her blush, but it feels so good that her head falls back, her eyes sliding shut as she relaxes.

“Oh _God,_ BJ, that feels so good.”

There’s the muted scrape of the chair against the library carpet, and then Hawkeye is stammering, “I- I’ll see you guys tonight, bye.”

And then he’s gone, the dull sound of his bag hitting the back of his gangly legs following him out.

“Think he’s okay?” BJ asks.

“I- I don’t know.”

“Well,” he says shyly, his hands falling away. “That should help.”

She stretches. “Fuck, you’re good with your hands.”

“That’s what they tell me,” BJ says. “I always figured I could fall back on being a masseuse if being a doctor doesn’t work out. Better?”

“Mmmm.” She sighs, a little blissed out. “Much.”

“Do you need to take anything?” BJ asks. “Or water, or I can grab you something from the caf-”

She stops him by kissing him quickly, muffling his worries, smiling when she pulls away. “You’re too sweet, baby. Even if you are a mother hen.”

He glances towards the door. “If only I could help everyone.”

“Darling, I believe that is what we classics students call _hamartia.”_

“Hamartia, hamartia, hamartia,” he jokes. 

“Sure Jan,” she says dryly in return. “BJ, _hamartia_ is a fatal flaw. _Yours,_ for example, is wanting to… well, help everyone.”

“And what’s so bad about that?”

“Nothing… up until the point where it consumes you, and is responsible for your downfall, per the classics.”

“You classics students go in big for the downfall huh?”

“It’s quite tragic,” she teases. “And maybe you don’t need to help everyone.”

“Maybe not, but…”

“Give it time,” she tells him, wondering why the look on his face gives her such an ache in her chest. “And speaking of time, do you think I could work on this?”

He grins, nudging his foot against hers. “See you tonight?”

“Tonight.”

“Love you,” he says, a little shyly and breathlessly (it’s a little bit new and thrilling still to hear it), kissing her again before he’s up and bounding across the library like a golden retriever puppy, no doubt in search of Hawkeye.

Shaking the thought from her head, she bends wearily back to her work.

* * *

“Peggy. _Peggy.”_

“Go ‘way,” she mumbles, burying her face in the soft surface it’s pressed against. “‘M sleeping.”

“Peg.”

She opens her eyes to glare up at the fuzzy figure looking down on her in the faint glow of the TV. “The fuck do you want?”

“You fell asleep.”

It clicks. “Oh fuck.”

She sits up straight, the blanket sliding from her shoulders, her cheeks heating up as she realizes the soft surface her face was pressed into was BJ’s lap. He’s sound asleep still, leaning against the wall, his hand lying open on the quilt from where she’d dislodged it from her hair. “What time is it?”

“About… two,” Hawkeye says sheepishly.

 _“What?”_ she asks in a furious whisper, scrambling up off the bed. “Why the fuck didn’t you wake me up?”

“Hey, hey, Peg. _Peg.”_ Hawkeye grabs her shoulders. “You clearly needed it-”

“What I needed was to write my outline.”

“Would you relax? It’s done.”

This stops her in her tracks. “It’s done?”

“Yeah. It’s on my desk.”

“You didn’t finish it for me, did you?”

“No,” he says. “Since I figured you’d tear out my guts, put them in jars, and have me crying out for my mummy.”

She reaches over, grabbing it off the desk and scanning it. “Fuck. Where are my shoes?”

“They should be by the door,” Hawkeye says. “Are you okay?”

“I’ll be better once I can get home and rewrite this.”

“Look, Peggy,” he says, using that irritating ‘I know better’ voice as he follows her to the door. “I know I’m not a doctor yet, but even I know that the best prescription for exhaustion is _sleep.”_

“You don’t know a fucking thing,” she mutters. “Like where my shoes are. Where the fuck are they?”

“Peg,” he says, and all sanctimony has dropped from his voice, replaced by tenderness. “Are you sure you’re okay to go home?”

“Hawkeye,” she says, turning back to look up at him, hating the quiver in her voice. “I- I have to get this _done.”_

“And you will,” he says. “But not right now. You need to sleep. Here, just… take my bed, okay? You can stay the night.”

“But what about you?” she asks. “Where will you sleep?”

“I’ve got a cot in the closet.”

“You have an exam tomorrow.”

“Yeah?” he asks, opening the closet door. “I have a friend who needs me. Fuck the exam.”

“But Hawkeye-”

“But nothing,” he says, pulling out the cot. “See?”

“I- I can take the cot,” she protests.

“Nope.”

“But-”

“Butts are nice,” Hawkeye muses as he digs through his dresser. “Sleep would be nicer. Here.”

She takes the oversized shirt and flannel pjs. “Thanks.”

“I know it’s not a lace negligee or anything…” he trails off.

“I wouldn’t think lace would be your style,” she says, a little absentmindedly, and he blinks, averting his gaze as she fiddles with the hem of her shirt. “Um, should I-”

“If you want to change in the bathroom, I’ll just get this uh. Set up. There’s a spare toothbrush in the cabinet. Never been used.”

“T-Thanks, Hawkeye.”

“Well,” Hawkeye says, with a self-deprecating shrug. “What are friends for?”

“I mean it,” she tells him, standing on her toes to press a kiss to his cheek. “You’re my hero.”

He splutters a little, cheeks pink, and she ducks into the bathroom. 

She lingers once she’s behind the closed door, takes her time washing her face, brushing her teeth, combing her fingers through her hair, and relieving herself, before she’s finally decided she’s stalled enough.

She tugs off her own clothes, before pulling Hawkeye’s shirt over her head. She’s short enough that she could in fact wear it as a nightgown and forget the pants, but all jokes about leg hair aside, she isn’t quite sure it’s appropriate. She pulls the pants on, rolling them at the waist and cuffs a few times, before flicking off the light and wandering back into the room. 

The only light is from the still-glowing TV, _Mad About You_ on low volume, as she awkwardly steps around Hawkeye’s cot to climb up onto his bed. 

She thinks he’s asleep already as she snuggles in under the covers, but after a second she hears a sleepy voice ask, “Are you feeling better now?”

“Much,” she says, inhaling the smell of Hawkeye’s shampoo on his pillow, an odd hollow nostalgia filling her as she does. It’s clean and fresh, like a spring breeze off the ocean. “I’m lucky to have you, Hawkeye.”

“Ditto,” he whispers, and it may just be her imagination, but he sounds sad. “Peg?”

“Yeah?”

“I’m really glad I met you.”

“Oh.” She blinks. “Ditto.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” She smiles into the darkness. “Goodnight Hawkeye.”

“‘Night, Peggy Jane.”

She buries her face in his pillow, listening to the soft thunder of BJ’s snoring in the opposite bed, and Hawkeye must think she’s asleep, because a few minutes go by, when he whispers, “You look good in my clothes.”

It’s the last thing she registers before she sinks into sleep, safe and secure like falling asleep in a lover’s arms.

* * *

She isn’t even aware of waking up until her eyes open, bright sunlight pouring into the dorm room, and painting the ceiling gold. It isn’t her room, but she’s snug and warm, and it feels so familiar that it doesn’t matter-

“Oh,” she whispers, remembering, the quilt sliding off her shoulders as she sits up in BJ and Hawkeye’s dorm room, curled up under Hawkeye’s faded red quilt. BJ’s bed is neatly made, and the cot is gone from the floor. The boys are gone too, the room empty except for the dust motes spinning in sunbeams.

Her eyes go to the clock, which reads 10:00.

 _Right,_ she thinks. _The exam._

She closes her eyes, wishing to a deity she isn’t sure she believes in that the boys, her boys, will be alright, and sinks back into Hawkeye’s blankets. Her meeting with Jordan isn’t until one, and she intends to luxuriate a bit in this little oasis of peace, bathed in the soft glow of mid-morning.

The room is quiet enough that she can almost hear her heartbeat, the soft sounds of her breathing, cradled in the peace and warmth of Hawkeye’s bed, her eyes closed against the sunlight, her mind somewhere between dreams and reality.

It’s 10:30 by the time she gets up properly, shoving her hair back from her face with her fingers as she swings her legs off the bed.

She takes off Hawkeye’s pyjamas, feeling an odd twinge of regret at having to leave them behind. She steals BJ’s faded Stanford sweater from under his bed, tugging it over her head, before re-rolling the cuffs of her jeans, which have somehow come unrolled overnight. 

She’s about to start looking for her shoes again when she sees them sitting on Hawkeye’s desk.

There’s a note on top, folded in half, ‘ _Peg’_ written on it in Hawkeye’s messy scrawl. She traces a finger over the letters, unable to suppress a smile, before picking it up and unfolding it.

> _Dear Pegs,_
> 
> _Read your outline. If the essay is half that good, you’ll be a shoe-in for TA next year._
> 
> _Hawk._
> 
> _P. S. Maybe at our next sleepover, you can braid my hair?_

She’s smiling as she sets it down, shaking her head at the pun, when she notices something different about her shoes.

At first glance, they’re the same dirty old pair of white Converse she’s worn since her feet stopped growing, the red faded to a dull burgundy, the soles worn, smeared with Oklahoma dirt and dried drops of blood from the first time she’d ridden on a motorcycle.

But then she sees the neatly-mended hole, held together by Hawkeye’s careful stitches.

She pictures it, unable to help it, Hawkeye squinting down at her shoe in the glow from the TV while she sleeps on BJ’s lap. 

Hawkeye, mending her shoes without expecting anything in return, but doing it anyway.

Hawkeye giving up his bed the night before an exam so she doesn’t have to leave. 

Hawkeye telling her how lucky he is to know her.

“Oh,” she whispers, the note crumpling in her fist as she sinks to her knees on the carpet, realizing hitting her like ocean waves, fondness and aching tenderness.

She’s in love with Hawkeye Pierce.

“Fuck,” she whispers, flushing hot at the thought, heat prickling over her face, and it’s like she’s ended up on a fishing boat in the middle of a storm, tossed about on the waves, everything she knows in disarray. 

It doesn’t make sense, and yet it makes perfect sense.

But- she searches, frantically, and there it is, thank god, the feelings for BJ still wrapped around her heart like vines over a trellis.

Only where BJ is roses, Hawkeye is a new plant, something soft and purple, intertwining with the roses instead of choking them out. 

Peg stands up, shakily, before uncrumpling the note, refolding it and shoving it in her pocket, lacing her shoes in a daze, barely remembering to grab her outline off of his desk.

She should leave a note of her own, should say _something_ to thank him, but what words would ever fit this strange situation she’s suddenly thrust the three of them into?

It’s too new, too raw, too many green shoots in the dirt that could so easily be trampled underfoot – even accidentally.

She makes Hawkeye’s bed, a little messily, the way he would (“they haven’t taught me hospital corners yet,” he explains in her mind’s eye, eyes alight with joy), and smooths her hand over his pillow, wondering if he’ll think about it when he falls asleep tonight, the way she will.

Like a magnet, she turns to BJ’s bed, seeing the lump of his pajamas under the quilt between his two pillows, and runs her fingers over the edge of the quilt, before pressing a hand to his pillow too.

She begs him, silently, to understand, to _know,_ the way he knows everything about her. To see her, to know the part of her that doesn’t have a name.

And to know that maybe, just maybe, she wants Hawkeye to know her too.

* * *

“Beej!”

BJ looks up, his chest tight like it’s been tied in knots, as Hawkeye runs over, his cheeks pale, his fingers stained with pen ink. “H-Hi Hawk.”

“What’s wrong?” Hawkeye asks, looking him over.

“Who said anything was wrong?” BJ asks, but gives himself away when he can’t meet Hawkeye’s eye, instead looking down as he fidgets with his shirt, the same shirt he slept in. Try as he might, he can’t seem to take a full breath.

Hawk sits down beside him without caution, not like the way his family used to (his attacks were like a bomb primed to detonate). “Beej.”

“T-That exam was a nightmare, Hawk,” he blurts out. I- I felt like a kid in there, I’m sure I f-failed, I must’ve gotten that last question wrong, and-”

“Beej,” Hawk cuts him off. “Beej, you’re spiraling.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m not trying-”

“Here.” Hawkeye holds out his hand, and BJ takes it, grateful for something to ground him while he tries to breathe. Both of them pretend not to notice how clammy his hands are, how shaky he is. “This sounds like an attack.”

“N-No,” BJ lies through gritted teeth. It’s hard, his breathing all funny, and a tightness in his throat that threatens to strangle him. “I just- oh _God,_ Hawk.”

“Beej, hey, look at me, okay?” Hawkeye squeezes his hand, and BJ, his mind still racing, manages to drag his eyes up to meet the clear blue ones. “Focus on me. I want you to breathe, okay? In for five, out for five.”

BJ struggles to draw a proper breath, his heart beating harder when he can’t, when all he can manage are a few gasps of air. “H-Hawk, I can’t, I can’t!”

“You can. C’mon Beej. Breathe with me. Pretend you’re having my baby.”

“Don’t- don’t have the hips for it.”

Hawkeye grins a little, but just says. “Inhale, okay? Five seconds.”

They inhale together, BJ struggling through it, and then Hawk murmurs, “and out.”

It whooshes out of him, so noisy that Hawk actually laughs. “Hawk.”

“You’re doing so good, Beej. Let’s do it again, okay? In.”

BJ breathes in again, focusing on the clear blue eyes, the calmness in them, like the sea on a nice day.

“And out.”

Slowly, his hand in Hawkeye’s, he comes out of it, sailing through the storm onto the calm ocean, his heart slowing in his chest back to normal.

“S-Sorry,” he mumbles again when he can, and Hawk gives him a wry grin.

“I figured I owed you a few by now, Beej. What are best friends for?”

“You don’t think I’m-” He gulps. “Weak?”

Hawkeye blinks, and for a second he looks truly astonished. “No! Fuck no, you’re not weak. It happens, Beej.”

“But-.”

“No buts. Except yours but only because it’s cute.”

“Okay. Can you- can you hold me for a second?” BJ blurts out, shaky.

Hawkeye glances around the empty hallway, a cursory glance, before scooting in next to BJ and holding him. “You’re gonna be okay, you know?”

“How?”

“I’m a doctor, I know everything.”

BJ nudges him weakly, his heart going from panic to fluttering in adoration. “You’re not a doctor yet.”

“Then I know almost everything.”

They sit like that for a few minutes in silence, BJ breathing in the smell of Hawk’s pine-scented shampoo.

“Thanks, Hawk.”

“You’re welcome.” Hawkeye pulls away, and tugs a bottle of water and an apple from his bag. “Here.”

BJ gives him a look. “I’m not exactly feeling like giving apples to our teacher right now, Hawk.”

“It’s for you, dummy,” Hawk says affectionately. “You’ll feel better if you eat something. And I know I’m not a doctor yet, but water is allegedly good for you. Oh, and that last question you were sure you got wrong? I know you didn’t because it was in the study guide you made, and you did it perfectly there.” 

BJ gives him a look. “Hawk…”

“I just…” Hawk averts his eyes. “I wanted to be prepared. I- I know it’s been over a year since the last one, but…”

BJ ignores it, pulling him back into a hug, feeling nothing but affection. 

It isn’t that he doesn’t already know, but it hits him again just how much he loves Hawkeye Pierce, a love that flutters around his ribcage like a butterfly, like Peg’s love, both of them light and soft in his chest, where he can keep them safe. 

Only where Peg is a monarch, Hawk is a phaon crescent.

“Thanks Hawk,” he says again when he pulls away. “Really.”

“Do you need more of a debrief?” Hawkeye asks as he passes over the apple. “Or can we start talking about the celebration dinner we’re gonna have when this is all over?”

“We’ll have to ask Peggy,” he says absentmindedly. “But I’ll take you both to Rosie’s once exams are done. If we do well.”

“You’ll do well,” Hawkeye says with certainty. “You always do.”

BJ wants, for just one aching, yearning second to pull him into a kiss, as casually as he would Peggy, but this isn’t the right time or place. 

Instead he just nudges Hawkeye, and smiles. “Maybe you do know everything after all.”

* * *

He finds Peg in the back corner of Rosie’s, nursing a Vanilla Coke, and while she looks brilliant as ever in the fading afternoon light, she also looks heartsick. 

“Hey,” he says, sliding into the booth across from her, the sight of her white face sending a jolt of renewed panic through him. “Is everything okay?”

She won’t meet his eye. “BJ…”

“I mean obviously it’s not okay, because you wouldn’t have taken time away from studying if things were okay…” he rambles. “But is everything okay?”

“I’m- I’m not sure,” she admits softly, looking up at last, and the butterflies in his stomach turn to wasps.

“Peg, whatever it is, is it…” he pauses. “Is it to do with- with us?”

Her eyes widen. “You- how’d you know?”

“If you want to break up…” he starts cautiously, and stops when her eyes blaze with fire.

“Break up?”

“Um.” He backtracks. “I mean-”

“Why the fuck would I want to break up? Unless _you_ want to break up.”

“You’re the one who called me here, wouldn’t explain on the phone, took me and you away from studying, sounding like your mom just died-” He ignores the twitch of her lips. “What was I supposed to think?”

“You didn’t answer my question.”

“Of course I don’t.”

“Good!” she says back, slamming down her Coke. “Neither do I!”

“Good.” They glare at each other, and then after a second of tense silence, they both crack up.

When it subsides, there’s an awkward silence, Peg fiddling with her watch. “Look, I don’t want to break up.”

“I told you, neither do I.” He reaches out and takes her hand. “Now can you tell me what’s going on? I don’t like jump scares.”

“I know,” she says dryly. “I’m the poor person who has to sit next to you. And remember the extra pants.”

He grins. “That was one time.”

“Twice,” she says fondly. “Scaredy cat.”

“You’re as bad as Hawkeye,” he tells her, and the smile disappears like the sun behind a cloud. “What? What did I say?”

“Nothing, only…” She sighs. “Look, when we got together, we said we’d always be honest with each other. And I’m not lying, BJ. I don’t want to break up. But…”

“But?”

“But I- I do need to talk to you, and I need- oh fuck, that’s not fair - I don’t _want_ you to hate me.”

“I could never-” he starts, but she cuts him off.

“BJ.”

“What?”

“I love you,” she tells him seriously. “I really, _really_ fucking love you.”

“Well that’s good,” he says. “I’d hate for it to be one-sided, because _boy_ that would mean I read those signals wrong.”

She smiles, a tiny bit, but it slips off her face. “But…”

“But?” he prompts. 

She swallows hard, and then starts talking, the words rushing out and tripping over each other. “I- I love you, and I’ve been _in_ love with you for so long, BJ, god that first time you kissed me I swear I went fucking weak at the knees, but that- that _asshole_ mended my shoes for me, and he cares about me the way you do, and I _know_ he’s our best friend, but I- I can’t help it, and- and- and I’m in love with Hawkeye.”

The truth sits there between them for a second, waiting to be picked up and examined, but all BJ can do is look at her, at the wide brown eyes, at the freckles dusting her nose, the way she’s biting her bottom lip nervously.

And then it sinks in, and he has to repress the sudden urge to laugh. “You’re in love… with Hawkeye?”

“Yes.”

“Our best friend, Hawkeye.”

“No, the member of the Avengers initiative,” she deadpans, steel in her voice layered with levity. “Yes, our best friend Hawkeye.”

BJ’s mouth twitches, and he can feel the hysterical laughter rising up, but he manages to keep it repressed just a second longer. “But… you still love me?”

“I love _both_ of you,” she explains, a little helplessly. “A-At the same time, and I don’t _get_ it, but-”

And he finally cracks, breaking down in helpless fits of laughter, her mouth dropping open in shock as he laughs.

He can’t stop, can’t stop it, because it’s too insane, too absurd, too them. They’ve both fallen in love with their mutual best friend, and it feels like the plot of a romance novel, and he’s not alone, and-

“Fuck you, BJ Hunnicutt,” she says, her voice threaded with anger, and she tries to pull away when he reaches for her hand.

“N-No Peg, you…” He wheezes, trying to catch his breath. “You don’t understand.”

“I understand plenty. You’re making fun of me, you asshole.”

“No! No, no, you don’t understand, Peg. I’m in love with him too.”

This stops her cold. “What?”

“I said…” He takes a shaky breath. “You don’t understand but I do. You’re in love with Hawkeye, and… and so am I.”

“But.” Realization dawns, and her own mouth twitches again. “You still love me?”

“I’m not sure I know how to stop,” he reassures her.

“And you love him too.”

“Yeah.”

She leans back in the booth. “Holy shit.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, watching her. “Holy shit.”

And then she’s laughing too, both of them giggling in shock and hilarity, and the mutual understanding that while they’ve been in sync for everything else, this too is something they can share.

He grabs her hand and this time she lets him take it, holding on tight.

“S-So what do we do?” she asks, when the giggling subsides, her face still flushed with laughter. 

“I- I don’t know,” BJ admits. “But- Peg, this. This is real, right? This is happening?”

She squeezes his hand. “Apparently we have the same taste in men.”

“But what are we gonna do about it?” he asks, his voice soft. “I- I mean should we tell him?”

“I think we should.”

“What if he’s disgusted?” BJ asks. 

“What if he isn’t?”

“We could lose him, Peggy,” he says, and the wasps are back, clawing up his throat and leaving bitterness behind. “We could lose our best friend because we’re-”

“Perverts?” she challenges.

“No! No, just… different. I mean, I- I don’t really know how this sort of thing works. P-Polygamy. Except…” He cringes. “Except what I’ve seen on the news about b-bigamy, and- and sister wives.”

“I- I’ve seen them too,” Peg whispers, her face pale again. “But- but that can’t be the only side of it, right? There… there _have_ to be people who’ve made it work. Somewhere in the literature-”

“Wait a second, hold up.” BJ looks her in the eye. “Are you saying you want it to work?”

She swallows hard, and then nods. “I love him, and I love you, and- and I don’t see any reason for stopping either, if I even could.”

“Yeah,” he agrees. “Ditto. So we’re really gonna…?”

She takes a shaky breath, but her smile is genuine, and the butterflies multiply. “We’re going to invite Hawkeye into our relationship.”

* * *

Something is up with BJ and Peg.

And Hawkeye doesn’t like it, doesn’t like how it leaves him out, leaves him anxious, scared they’re planning something without him, like he’s superfluous, something to be tossed aside when they’re tired of it.

He’s always worried this day would come, ever since his two best friends started dating each other. He’s always worried about becoming just baggage.

And BJ and Peg aren’t helping, their heads ducked together in a corner of the library, talking about things he doesn’t understand, only catching nonsensical phrases here and there like “Wonder Woman” and “Tibet”.

None of it makes any sense.

Until, two days before their last exam, when he’s late to meet Peg and BJ in the library for a last-minute study session. 

Until he walks around the corner to the library, and crashes into something solid, sending both of them sprawling on the floor and papers flying everywhere like a miniature snowstorm.

“Jesus!” Hawk yelps, his elbows and ass stinging like he’s just been spanked. “Haven’t you ever heard of a turn signal?”

“That’s rich,” BJ says, sitting up, but at least he’s grinning. “Coming from you.”

 _“I_ wasn’t a cab driver in a past life.” Hawkeye rubs at his elbow. “Are you hurt?”

“Just my ass,” BJ says.

“Try rubbing it.”

 _“You_ rub it,” BJ jabs good-naturedly.

“And you made a mess,” Hawkeye says, reaching for the nearest photocopied article, barely catching the title

_POLYGAMISTS IN TIBET: A CRITICAL STUDY_

Before BJ snatches it from his hand. “No!”

“Beej-,” Hawk starts, confused.

“I- I have to bring these upstairs. I’ll meet you in there, okay?” BJ won’t meet his eye as he gathers the last of his articles, his face crimson, his ears burning, and then he hurries off, leaving Hawk sitting on the ground, confused.

And then, slowly, the pieces come together.

BJ’s embarrassment, the article title-

“Oh,” Hawkeye whispers, a quietly devastated little sound that echoes down the hallway like it does through the sudden hollow in his chest.

Now it all makes sense: BJ and Peg bent together whispering, shutting up when he walks over, the stacks of articles BJ has brought back to the dorm and read by flashlight when he thinks Hawk is asleep, the way the two of them give him speculative looks when they think he’s not paying attention, all of it.

Because they’re adding someone else to their relationship.

And it isn’t him.

It isn’t _him,_ he thinks, his eyes welling up with tears. After everything the three of them have done together, all the history between them- it isn’t him.

It isn’t _him,_ the one who’s been in love with both of them since first year, the one who’s loved them so fucking much he’s sure it’s written into every strand of his DNA by now.

And then he wonders if he can do it, if he can really sit there and watch them love someone else, watch them take in someone else when that someone should be him.

Instead of going to the library, he ducks into the bathroom and cries.

And then he heads upstairs, barely noticing where he’s going until he’s standing in front of Peggy’s door.

He thinks about the night a few weeks ago, thinks about her falling asleep in his shirt, in his bed, and wonders how he got his wires so crossed.

He goes back to his room to study, and nobody comes looking for him.

Which is fine.

He briefly wonders, as he opens his notes and looks at them without reading, if it’s possible to be a third wheel to a polygamous relationship.

He doesn’t really care to find out.

* * *

Their last day of exams arrives, cold and snowy, grey clouds looming overhead.

Hawkeye isn’t an English major but even he can recognize pathetic fallacy when he sees it.

They walk from the dorms over to Rosie’s afterwards, all of them dressed a little too nicely for an end-of-term dinner at their favourite greasy spoon, and Hawkeye is jittery the whole time, because Peg and BJ are beautiful, radiant as the sun, but they haven’t said a word yet.

Until they tell him, he can pretend and deny, but once the truth is out there, well…

It’s not until after they’ve finished eating, that Peg clears her throat.

“A toast,” she says, holding up her Vanilla Coke, her red lipstick smudging the glass already. 

“To what?” Hawkeye asks dully, wondering if this is the announcement that they’ve found someone else. Is it someone he knows?

He wonders, fiddling with his glass, if it’s legal to challenge someone to a duel in premed.

“To us, dummy,” BJ says, tapping his glass against Peg’s. “The three of us.”

His face is so alight with love as he looks between Peg and Hawk, that Hawkeye just doesn’t understand how the two of them could choose someone else when they look at him like that.

“Alright,” Hawk says, holding up his glass. “To us. May we… always be enough.”

He doesn’t know why he says it, except to wound, and it might just hit its mark- BJ and Peg exchange a look.

“C’mon,” BJ says to Peg, and then turns to Hawk. “You too.”

Peg tosses down money for the tip, and the bill, before pulling on her coat.

The wind outside is freezing, sending snowflakes whirling around them as they start to walk back.

“So who is it?” Hawkeye asks after a few minutes of unbearable silence.

The three of them stop under a streetlight, the halogen turning Peg’s hair into a golden halo, her eyes dark in the dim. 

“Who’s what?”

“The third person. The- your new partner,” Hawkeye says, feeling his throat tighten.

“Hawk…”

“Do I know them?”

“I hope you do,” Peg cuts in. “Since it’s you.”

Hawkeye freezes, even as the snow keeps falling, the three of them still as statues, snowflakes catching in Peg’s curls and eyelashes under her purple beanie. “What?”

Peg sighs, but her tone is teasing. “Well, now that you’ve taken all the wind out of our sails…”

“What?” Hawkeye repeats again, confused, because this can’t be happening, it isn’t happening.

“We were going to ask you tonight,” BJ says, his voice low and warm and shocking the life back into Hawkeye. “We are asking you. To be ours.”

“To- to be yours?” Hawkeye squeaks.

“To be our partner. Both of our partners.” Peg reaches out and takes his hand. 

“Y-You mean all that stuff about Tibet and Wonder Woman, and polygamy-” Hawkeye croaks when he finds his voice. “That was about _me?”_

“About _us,”_ Peg corrects him, her voice soft and teasing. “The three of us. As a... a triad. I-If you want.”

“You want me?” Hawkeye asks.

“God, more than anything,” BJ says, and he’s grinning, and the snow is falling in fat flakes, a rainbow of Christmas lights reflecting on the snow, and it’s all surreal, like any minute now, Hawkeye will wake up back on his cot in their dorm from a brilliant dream.

“You mean you weren’t looking for someone else?” he asks, his voice shaking.

“Well no,” Peg says reasonably. “Seeing as it’s you we’re fucking in love with.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Neither did we, at first, but that’s not the point.” BJ takes his other hand, his hands warm through his wool gloves. “The point is if we’re willing to try. I want to try, Hawk. I want the three of us to try this.”

“It could end horribly,” Peg adds. “But I’m a betting kinda gal, and I like our odds.”

“Our… odds,” Hawkeye repeats.

“Yes,” she says, and gives him a look of such wondrous love that it takes his breath away, and like the cold, it starts to sink into his bones, the knowledge of it: he loves them, and they inexplicably love him back. 

“But what will everyone else say?”

“I don’t care what everyone else says. They’re not invited.”

“But…”

“Hawkeye.” BJ squeezes his hand. “It’s not about the technical stuff, okay? That’s the part we learn. It’s… it’s about us. The three of us.”

“And if this is something we want to do,” Peg adds. “To be.”

“It-.” Hawkeye’s voice cracks. “It is.”

They both light up, brighter than any Christmas star. 

“It is?” Peggy asks.

“You’re sure?”

“No,” Hawkeye says, and laughs. “I’m not sure of anything. But I am sure that… that I love you.”

It’s liberating, to say it out loud, to see it reflected in their eyes. 

“I love you,” he says again, and it’s like he can’t stop. “I love you. I love you.”

“I love you,” Peg says softly back.

“And I love you too,” BJ adds. “So what do you say?”

Hawkeye looks between them, and grins, a little shakily. “If you guys are in, then so am I.”

Peggy whoops and tackles him, nearly knocking him off his feet, and then her mouth is on his, Vanilla Coke and snowflakes, a kiss that surprises him, makes his head spin almost as much as the tackle.

And then BJ’s arms are wrapping around both of them, warm and steady, and Hawkeye is suddenly smashed between the two people he loves, BJ’s lips soft on his forehead.

“This is real, right?” he asks, to no one in particular. “It’s happening? You love me?”

“Hawkeye,” BJ says, and Hawk looks up at him. “Loving you is easy.”

“What he said,” Peg mumbles from Hawk’s midsection.

BJ smiles, and leans in to kiss Hawkeye, their lips barely brushing, the three of them crushed in an absurd group hug under the streetlamp, and Hawkeye’s whole body is aglow, sparkling with love and affection.

“So does that mean I can call you my partners in crime now?” he asks when he pulls away, rewarded with the sound of their laughter, their bodies intertwined around his like vines, their hearts fluttering just under their skin like butterflies where they’re pressed against him, and all he can think as he holds on tight, is that they’ve got it backwards.

It’s loving them that’s easy.

**_~fin~_ **

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from "I will always return" by Bryan Adams


End file.
